Meetings
by rockgodsdoitbetter
Summary: after the war Harry and Draco run into each other and end up releasing pent-up emotions. Book 7 spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Meetings: 1

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco

**Warnings: **possible _Deathly Hallows _spoilers. Pre-epilogue. Infidelity.

**Summary: **after the war Harry and Draco run into each other and end up releasing pent-up emotions

**Notes:** This was written for fun. I was having trouble finding Harry/Draco fic that (mostly) complied with the events of book seven and still contained what I love about the pairing. Eventually, I decided that if I was going to be picky I might as well try to write it myself. In no way am I intending to convince any non-belivers about the inevitability of this pairing. I do not own these characters… I do not own anything from the Harry Potter universe or franchise. I'm just playing.

"Potter," Malfoy growled.

"Please Malfoy. We are twenty-three years old. Don't you think we are bit beyond this stopping in the street and fighting bit?"

"What do you expect me to do Mr. High and Mighty hero? Just ignore you? Get over our difference and stop to chat about all our good schoolboy memories?"

Harry sighed. "That first option would have made my day a lot more pleasant..."

But Malfoy continued, "Oh here's a fond memory: remember that time you sent my father to jail, and oh yeah, I think there was something in there about you killing half my family, my godfather, and sending the rest off to join my father rotting in Azkaban? That was fun. Don't you think Potter?"

"Merlin Malfoy. If we are going to go there… I think you may be fuzzy on some of the details where you were _evil_ and on the _evil side_. And honestly, if your lot wasn't so inbred it wouldn't have been so easy to kill so much family," Harry yelled and then sighed again. He hated how he sounded right now. It was like he was still sixteen… or twelve with a better vocabulary. He couldn't help it though. He looked up and met Malfoy's eyes.

Malfoy met his glare. His pointed jaw clenched. "If I'm not mistaken, _Potter_, my inbred mother is related to your dear dead inbred godfather, and she saved your sodding life."

"Just to save her own arse. You're both pathetic manipulative social climbers. And oh yeah, I saved _your_ life," Harry yelled taking what he hoped was a threatening step closer to Malfoy. "Maybe I should've skipped that."

"You didn't have the balls hero-boy."

Harry scoffed. "Your gratitude astounds me."

"I don't owe you a thing Potter."

"Thank Merlin. I see enough of you by chance. I don't need you following me around trying to solve some debt."

"Oh please. Like that'd ever happen. Speaking of following you around… how is that blood traitor wife of yours working out for you?"

"Don't you fucking dare talk about my wife like that. And seriously? Do you actually still believe in that shit?" Harry felt himself growing tense with anger.

"I'm not about to drop my ideals, just because the rest of the world seems to have gone mad," Malfoy said rolling his eyes.

"Fuck. How the fuck can you be so.."

"Tsk, tsk Potter." Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I believe I read something recently from our world's favorite hero. Weren't you just preaching about how hatred won't do us any good anymore? You conquered your anger, yes? This doesn't seem like the same level headed golden boy. Wouldn't your loving public be devastated to see you like this?" Malfoy took another step towards Harry. His voice was the cold amused hiss he had perfected through twenty-three years of living in a Slytherin family.

Harry glared and lifted his chin. Malfoy was right. He had taken a stand against the hatred and anger that had become part of the wizarding community after the war. For years he had been the peaceful diplomat. He didn't even curse at his toaster anymore, and he was sick of it. He hadn't noticed until Malfoy had sauntered over to him with that obnoxious smirk. Now, the growing anger in him felt good. He wanted to hit Malfoy. He knew he would like hitting Malfoy. The other boy was right, and that just made Harry more angry. "Been following my articles have you Malfoy?"

"You wish," Malfoy scoffed. Harry couldn't tell if the pink on his white cheeks was from a blush or just the heat of the ire.

Harry found himself locked into a bizarre glaring contest with the other boy. It felt oddly comfortable reverting to their immature feud, but its intensity combined with how good it felt made him uncomfortable. "Fuck off ferret boy."

Malfoy opened his mouth in a soft chuckle. "Real mature scar-head. Think you could still beat me in a fight without your mudblood friend and the dope around for protection?"

Harry lunged forward and it felt wonderful. He punched Malfoy in the stomach. They exchanged punches until both boys were panting and bleeding. Malfoy was strong than Harry was expecting and he had Harry's arms pinned to the alley wall and was smirking proudly. His lip was bleeding from where Harry's wedding ring had caught his lip.

"Don't touch me again, Potter," Malfoy snarled.

Harry let out a panting laugh. "You're the one all over me here, Malfoy."

"Fuck you." Malfoy let go of the other boy. Harry promptly slammed him into opposite wall, reversing their positions.

Harry stared at the boy he had pinned to the wall. He imagined trying to tell Ginny how he had met Malfoy and beat him up. She would laugh, but she'd be disappointed. He had worked so hard to overcome his anger. He loosened his grip. "Fuck you," he repeated then let him go. "You aren't worth it."

He started to walk away when Malfoy ran him into the wall. "Not worth it?" His arms pressed his into the bricks. His hands were on top of Harry's and his face was inches away. "I'm below our hero, eh? Not good enough for you? Don't even want to waste your spit. Fuck you, _Potter_. I am too good for you. I am richer, smarter, and a goddamn better flyer than you. You came in and ruined my fucking life and then I'm not even worth throwing a few punches at. I know the world sees you as their golden-boy, but I've seen darker sides of you. I know you can get your precious hero hands dirty. So, don't fucking tell me I'm not worth it," Malfoy finished with a yell. Harry could feel the other boy's breath with each syllable on his face. He wondered vaguely when Malfoy had started smoking.

"Shut up Malfoy," Harry hissed. Because he didn't really know what else to say. He was distracted by Malfoy's closeness. It scared him and excited him.

"You first," Malfoy growled before slamming his lips into Harry's. Harry let out a muffled yelp into the other boy's mouth, but he didn't resist. It was more like an extension of their fight than a proper kiss. Their teeth clinked together and they were biting eachother's lips. Malfoy's tongue entered his mouth with sharp urgency and Harry was pretty sure he would have bruises on his wrists from Malfoy's grip. Despite all of that, it felt good, better than Harry could admit. Harry liked it roughness of Malfoy's lips and his relentless grip. It was as if he had wanted this at school, but didn't know what it was.

Malfoy tore away to slam Harry harder into the wall. "How long have you wanted that, Potter?"

"So long," Harry answered before he could stop himself.

"I thought so, poof." Malfoy kissed Harry again, but Harry stopped embarrassed by how Malfoy had gained control of the situation.

"You were the one who kissed me," he growled and kicked Malfoy's shin. As the other boy coiled back in pain he pressed him into the other wall.

"I hate you," Malfoy whispered before Harry slammed their mouths together. Malfoy kissed him back while struggling to gain the upper hand again. As he pushed back against Harry their hips pressed together. Harry felt Malfoy's erection against his leg and pulled away.

"What the hell am I doing?"

"Well," Malfoy smirked, "It looks…" He cupped Harry's own obvious erection. "feels like you are enjoying yourself."

Harry's breath hitched and he moaned softly. "This is so fucking wrong." He closed his eyes and then turned away.

"Don't pretend otherwise, Potter. You're just as twisted as the rest of us," Malfoy called out.

Harry continued to walk away.

"Give my regards to your _wife_ now."

"Fuck you," Harry called back over his shoulder.

Malfoy just smiled to himself. "See you soon Potter," he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Meetings: 2

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco

**Warnings: **possible _Deathly Hallows _spoilers. Pre-epilogue. Infidelity.

**Summary: **after the war Harry and Draco run into each other and end up releasing pent-up emotions. This is their second encounter

**Notes:** This was written for fun. I was having trouble finding Harry/Draco fic that (mostly) complied with the events of book seven and still contained what I love about the pairing. Eventually, I decided that if I was going to be picky I might as well try to write it myself. In no way am I intending to convince any non-belivers about the inevitability of this pairing. I do not own these characters… I do not own anything from the Harry Potter universe or franchise. I'm just playing.

The next time Draco saw Potter he was on his lunch break. Granted, Draco's lunch break had started at 10. Draco owned a potions company that specialized in potions to enhance Quidditch equipment. A recent article said he has revolutionized the sport. It wasn't as glamorous as his father's line of work, but the company's noncommercial work had started to give him some political influence. After the war he had lost most of his fortune, and people were wary to trust his family name. He was always a good potions student, despite the fact that most people accounted his good grades to favoritism. Draco had started his business and it took him a few years to get to the point where he was now: he was able to only work in development and his office a few hours each day and retain the respect of his workers. He slept in, got to work, worked for an hour before taking his lunch break, which often lasted until four or five hours.

Potter was sitting in the corner of a café facing the door. The place was small and would probably be described as cute. It was not Draco's type of place, but he couldn't resist torturing Potter. He knew he was probably going crazy at this point. It had been a week since their last fight, and Draco was anxious for another chance to drive the other boy mad. He smirked just thinking about the power he now had over Potter. And while he refused to think about this, he was scared that Potter might discover how he could take control of the situation—and of Draco. It wasn't just a power thing either; Draco didn't think he had wanked as much as he had in the past week since he was a teenager.

Draco didn't look at Potter as he entered the café. The menu was written on a blackboard with colored chalk, and it all looked like comfort food. Draco grimaced, but approached the cashier to order. He ordered pumpkin soup, and sat down at the unfinished-wood counter facing the window. Rustic, he thought—rolling his eyes. He knew he was directly in Potter's line of sight, but still pretended he didn't know he was there. He took out the _Daily Profit_ and tentatively tried his soup. It was better than he expected, and he could tell Potter was staring at him, so he closed his eyes and pulled the spoon slowly out of his mouth. He knew it was over the top, but he didn't care. If his goal was to drive Potter crazy, he'd have to be over the top. In complete disregard for the table manners ingrained in him, he licked the back of his spoon to get the remaining soup off of it. He heard silverware drop at Potter's table, but he refused to turn his head. He suppressed the urge to giggle. Giggling is extremely unMalfoy-like even if it is an evil giggle. Not to mention giggling is extremely unmanly and Draco intended to keep a hold of both his manhood and Malfoyhood throughout this endeavor.

He finished the soup, stood up, and walked to the bathroom to wash his hands. He passed a few feet away from Potter's table, but he kept his neck stiff. He wanted Potter to feel like their next interaction was completely his own fault. Draco barely had time to turn on the water before Potter opened the door, glaring.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco continued washing his hands, and fought the urge to smirk. "Excuse me, Potter? You're the one who barged into the washroom of the place I was eating lunch."

"You know I eat here. Everyone ones I eat here. Stop following me—I never want to see you or talk to you or— just be mature and stop okay?"

Draco rolled his eyes and said, "I see nothing has changed, Potter. You still assume everything is about you. I don't, in fact, keep a copy of "The Boy-Who-Lived's favorite haunts" taped in my planner."

Potter crossed his arms, and his glare intensified. "You don't know me as well as you think you do."

"Oh yeah? Your wife is a blood traitor. You are friends with mudbloods. You are a conceited jerk who has always expected special treatment because your beloved parents died when you were a baby. You aren't talented—just lucky. You—"

"See? You are wrong. That proves nothing," Potter interrupted.

Draco turned off the water. He reached behind Potter to grab a paper towel. When he was just inches away from the other boy's ear he whispered, "I know you want to hit me right now. I know you are reveling in how angry you feel. You're tired of being a role model—you just want to scream. Now tell me I don't know you, Potter."

"You're wrong," Potter growled.

Draco smiled and slowly dried his hands—staying close by the other boy.

"Wrong," Potter repeated. He shoved Draco away from him.

Draco fell hard against the sink counter. He stood back up, and despite the pain in his side he felt like grinning. "You've just been waiting to see me again, Potter. I know it."

"No," Harry said, "You are the one who came in here, and didn't acknowledge me, and practically had oral sex with a _soup spoon_. Seriously, what the hell was that Malfoy? Do you always eat so pornographically?" Potter started edging towards the door.

"Looks as if you've got your mind in dirty places, Potter. I was just enjoying my soup." Draco stood still, looking at Potter with one eyebrow raised. He wasn't going to make the move this time. He could feel the energy coming from Potter's direction. He wouldn't have to wait long.

"Fuck off." Potter was making a fist with his hand.

"Right here?"

"You disgust me Malfoy," Potter spat, but he took a step towards Draco. He stopped turned towards the door, and then suddenly turned back and punched Draco in the face.

Draco grinned despite himself. "Hit me again."

Potter raised his arm again, but Draco was ready this time and grabbed it and swung the other boy into the wall of the stall. "This is what you want," Draco growled.

"No," Potter said—lunging at Draco. He pushed him until his head slammed into the mirror. The glass shattered and Draco could feel blood on the back of his head. Potter didn't flinch. He pinned Draco against the broken mirror. Both of them were breathing hard. Draco met Potter's glare and pushed against him trying to escape, but Potter leaned against him with his full weight and Draco was feeling a bit light headed from the pain.

"I want you to leave me alone. I was fine until you."

Draco didn't like to admit the effect Potter's proximity had on him, and he refused to make any move. It scared him how strong the urge was to kiss him, but he knew it was never good to relinquish any piece of control. He could tell by looking at the confusion and darkness in Potter's face that he still had some sort of upper hand. Before he had time to think of any way to utilize this Potter's mouth was on his—hot and invasive. Potter kissed like he was on the front line. Draco returned the attack. He pressed hard into him and pulled at his hair.

"I told you. Go away," Potter growled before pressing Draco harder against the broken mirror. Draco could feel the heat coming from Potter's pants and he groaned slightly as they pressed together. He was relieved when Potter's own moan covered his.

"Trust me Potter," Draco said as he attempted to switch their positions, "I'm trying. God knows where that mouth has been." Draco kissed the other boy again. He could tell one of their lips was bleeding. "They Weasleys aren't known for their hygiene."

At the mention of the Weasleys Potter lessened his grip. Draco took advantage of this, and turned so Harry was against the wall.

"This is so wrong," Potter said as he started to pull Draco closer. He kissed him, before pushing him away. "I'm not gay."

Draco paused, "I'm not either."

"And I'm married. I love Ginny," Potter protested. Draco looked him up and down his eyes lingering noticeably at Potter's obvious reaction to their current situation.

"I've heard that fairy-tale Potter along with the rest of our world. I just know you've never really been that Golden Boy."

It looked as though Potter's brain was fighting between arousal and regurgitation. Draco didn't wait for one to win out. He pinned Potter back down. Potter started fumbling with his own belt, when the door to the bathroom opened. They jumped apart just in time.

There stood a scrawny bus-boy. He looked a bit frightened, and in a small voice he asked, "Is everything alright in here?" His eyes scanned the room from the broken mirror to the two disheveled men. Draco had quickly removed his jacket and was holding it in front of his legs. Potter had been less prepared and quickly turned like he was washing his hands.

Potter sputtered. Typical. Draco smiled at the boy. "I'm sorry Mr. Potter here being quite a klutz slipped in some water on the floor. He fell against the mirror and took me down with him."

Potter nodded obviously relieved that he didn't have to be the one lying.

"I'm so sorry sir. I'll go get the owner. I'm sure she'll give you free meals to make up for the injury." The boy ran out.

Potter stared at the floor through the man's apologies and ran out of the café as soon as he could without looking back at Draco who just smirked, returned to his seat, and finished his complementary soup.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Meetings: 3

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco

**Warnings: **possible _Deathly Hallows _spoilers. Pre-epilogue. Infidelity.

**Summary: **after the war Harry and Draco run into each other and end up releasing pent-up emotions. These are their reactions to their second encounter.

**Notes:** This was written for fun. I was having trouble finding Harry/Draco fic that (mostly) complied with the events of book seven and still contained what I love about the pairing. Eventually, I decided that if I was going to be picky I might as well try to write it myself. In no way am I intending to convince any non-belivers about the inevitability of this pairing. I do not own these characters… I do not own anything from the Harry Potter universe or franchise. I'm just playing.

Harry raced out of the building until he reached an empty road. He could feel the anger still in his body—though it was being replaced by a growing nausea. He wanted to turn around and hit Malfoy again – or vomit on him—either one would be satisfying. This should not be happening. Harry grimaced as he realized that he should hate himself more than Malfoy. He should have enough control not to give in to this… whatever the hell it was. He would go home; Harry decided. His house was only a short distance away and he wasn't sure if he could go back to work. He'd floo Ron and let him know, but right now he had to get himself together before he faced anyone.

When he got home he found a note from Ginny: _Practice, then at the Burrow. Back for dinner. Xoxo_. Still staring at Ginny's looping handwriting, Harry collapsed into the dining room chair. When he tried to floo Ron his partner said he had left early for the day, so he tried him at his flat. Hermione appeared. She looked as though she had been crying.

"I'm coming though, Hermione," Harry said before thinking it through. His bruises were darkening and his lips were swollen, chapped, and cut.

Harry stepped into Ron and Hermione's living room. She was standing in front of a large empty bookshelf—thick books were strewn across the floor in piles. She smiled at Harry.

"I'm sorry. I'm just—reorganizing."

"It's fine. Is Ron around?"

"Ron went to the Burrow… It's only a week until Fred and… Until George's birthday. Molly started making their favorite cake and broke down. George stopped talking again." Hermione's hands were shaking as she stacked books.

_Fuck_, Harry thought, there's a possibility he's the worst husband in the world. "Gin went back too. Are you okay?"

"I just don't know what to do. I hate that feeling. I'm just helpless here. Harry—I hate this," she repeated. Her jaw was set and her eyes were firmly set ahead. This solid resolve was familiar.

"I know. This is still so crazy. I don't know what to do either…"

Hermione finally looked straight at Harry. "Harry—what happened to you?"

_Fuck_. Telling the truth was out of the question, but Hermione was looking at him with such earnest concern that Harry cringed at the idea of lying to her. If he was honest, but left out some details does that count as lying?

"I did something stupid"

She gave him a prompting look.

Harry sighed—he had foolishly been hoping that might be enough. "I ran into Malfoy—and he said some things and then we fought…" Harry trailed off.

"Harry—no. You can't let him control you like that. You're so much better than that," Hermione said. She was frowning at Harry and he felt like he was fifteen again and being reprimanded by a professor.

"I know. It won't happen again. I don't know what came over me. I don't get how that git knows how to make me so mad."

"He's always been able to do that. I just hoped you'd be mature enough now to control your reactions.

Harry sat down and shook his head. Hermione was right, of course, but she didn't know what kind of reaction Malfoy had gotten out of him this time. "Hermione, could you do me a favor and not tell anyone about this. I don't want to worry Ginny about this right now… and could you help me heal these bruises?"

Hermione looked at him hard. "I don't want to be a part of this, but fine. Come here. Just promise me it won't happen again."

There was one promise he sincerely wanted to keep. "I promise."

Draco returned to Astoria feeling satisfied. Yes, he was more than a little frustrated—sexually, but overall he felt satisfied. He was practically grinning with accomplishment, but Malfoys don't grin so he confined his smile to a more acceptable smirk. Potter was cracking. He had been the aggressor this time and Draco would see it starting to infect Potter's hero-persona.

"Draco, what happened to you?" Astoria asked. Draco didn't like the concern in Astoria's voice. After his family had been cleared, they had faced some harassment. It had never been too serious, and Draco knew how to hold his own. Astoria was still afraid that there might be some more serious backlash. He hated that she thought he wasn't strong enough to defend himself and he hated her doing on him with this concerned attention—he already had one mother.

"Draco?" Astoria repeated.

"I got in a fight."

"With whom? Why?" Astoria led him to the closet couch and him down.

"I won," Draco said with a smile. He didn't think wives were supposed to question their husbands like this, yet Astoria always did. It was as if she wanted to be involved in his life, but Draco knew this thing with Potter was something he could keep all for himself. His own sweet revenge. Malfoys were good at revenge. Potter needed punishment, and Draco had figured out the perfect torment.

Astoria looked hurt. She healed one of the cuts on his face and stood up and left with a huff.

Draco was too excited about his confrontation with Potter to be bothered by her anger or the fact that he would have to fix it later. He just wanted to bask in his glory. He tried not to think about the fact that his plan meant he would regularly be snogging another man. It wasn't as if he was gay, Draco assured himself. He knew he had wanted Potter like this for a while—but it wasn't a gay thing and it certainly wasn't a love thing. It was all about power. Draco clarified in his head—having power and control over Potter. It was that that turned Draco on, not Potter himself. If he looked at it objectively it was a very Malfoy thing to do. Draco sighed happily and called for his house elf from the kitchen. This is good, he thought, this is going very well.


End file.
